“Uhm…” Emilia started, trying to reconcile her suspicions about the whole sacrifice part of the ritual being unnecessary with the look of pure dedication in Phlostra’s eyes. It seemed almost a shame to tell the woman that her life wouldn’t be needed—she just looked so intent to die for the sake of the world and her revenge!
“I don’t think—” Emilia squeaked, her words cutting off as Phlostra surged forward, her ample breasts squishing into the table as she clasped her hands around Emilia’s.
⸂Let me do it,⸃ she said, voice imploring and sending a shiver of remembrance through Emilia.
Hadn’t there been times during the war, just like this? Missions where someone had to die, heading out on suicide missions because they needed information or to blow up a den of monsters? There had, nearly always, been someone willing to volunteer. Even if they never spoke of it, there was a hierarchy within their organization—there were those whose positions within the unit could be replaced, and those whose shoes could never truly be filled.
Everyone knew, even if it only ever came up at times like those, when a collection of their less valuable members would argue over who would be allowed to give up their life this time, those of them who were too valuable sitting by, uncomfortable in their own power and value. The other time it came up was, of course, on the field, where supports burnt themselves out for the fighters of their group and the more valuable supports, like James and Simeon.
Emilia knew that, in that hierarchy, she had been near the top. There had been a group of them, especially at the end, who were just too valuable, even the idea of losing of a single one of them enough to send shudders of fear through the entire military, even if only the highest-ranking soldiers knew more than their codenames. Emilia would have easily given her life for each of the members of that group, even if she knew that in many ways, she was what held them together. Ex-lovers and childhood friends, people who she had brought into the unit and would easily curl around like a cat, if given the chance.
Shaking off thoughts of the dead and living, Emilia squeezed Phlostra’s hands back, trying to silence the woman’s frankly insane ramblings about how as much as she understood that one of Emilia’s friends might have already volunteered for the job, she wanted it.
“Phlostra,” she said, throwing a touch of harsh authority into her voice.
The woman cut off, and from the corners of her eyes, Emilia could see the rest of the table stiffen. It was one thing to know that visitors were capable of changing their appearance—of portraying themselves to the world as any age they wanted—it was quite another to hear the edge of a leader’s voice coming from such a young face, although she was sure that even hearing it from her real face, young as it would be compared to their own, would have been a bit of a shock. Even Key and Rin looked a little put off by the sudden change in her voice—in her whole demeanour, really.
Ever since entering this room and being forced to guess at the reasons behind these people’s actions, Emilia had felt the high ranking solider within her rising back up, trying to break through its bonds and take control of a situation she only understood at a surface level. As much as she seemed to know more about certain aspects of the world and the way it worked than many people, she was under no illusions that she understood anything of real importance.
“Phlostra,” she began again, giving the woman a disarming smile. “I appreciate that, and if it comes down to it, I will gladly allow you to give up your life, if that is what you and the rest of the people at this table agree is the best option.”
She added that last bit because she’d seen the way several members of the group tensed when the woman had first offered up her life. It was clear that Phlostra was respected amongst the group—perhaps even their leader, although something told her that may be unofficial. It was also clear that at least a few of them were about to say her life was worth more than theirs. With so few acting against Ajarni and whatever Clarity members were still beholden to him, they definitely would need to have a conversation about who was actually the least valuable member of the group, if a sacrifice was deemed necessary.
Hopefully, it wouldn’t come to that.
“For the record, I wasn’t going to offer up either of my friends for sacrifice either,” Emilia added, giving the table her most disarming smile, “but I also really don’t think the sacrifice part of the Ingogia family’s ritual is necessary.”
Quickly, Emilia rattled off what she knew about the ritual and her suspicions about how the important part was actually keeping the hole in the aether open long enough, adding in details of how a local had already suggested to her his own theories on the matter, long before she’d learned about the Ingogia family’s ritual.
⸂That is possible,⸃ one of the women noted, calling attention to herself for the first time. A rather unassuming woman, easily fading into the background, she had been one of the members Emilia had pegged as a former spy. When Key tensed, and the woman mentioned Enclave contacts, Emilia figured her suspicions confirmed.
⸂One of my Enclave contacts,⸃ the woman explained, her eyes briefly sliding to Key before flicking back to Emilia, ⸂told me the Ingogia family performed many experiments before getting to the point their ritual worked. It would be easy to imagine they were simply done with experimenting, especially with your time here coming to an end, I believe?⸃
This time, Key and Rin looked at her, the weight of their expectations and soon-to-end friendship written over their faces.
“Yes,” Emilia told the woman. “From what I understand, we have a little less than two days left. Probably closer to a day and a half. It takes a lot of time to go down all those stairs.”
Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author's consent. Report any sightings.
She tried to ignore the way Rin tensed, the way Key slouched further into his chair, pout deepening. There were so many people in this world she would miss, but these two were her first friends, even if—aside from Boundary—she had spent less time with them than anyone else.
Well, technically she’d spent the least time with Honey, but that girl was still messaging her nonstop, and they might as well have spent the last few days doing nothing but chatting about themselves for how much she knew about the girl now. Not that she’d been sharing anything of herself in return.
⸂Do you really want to risk the ritual not working, simply because we did not sacrifice someone, when we have an entire table of willing souls?⸃ the woman asked, her dark, wine red eyes boring into Emilia.
Sucking in a deep breath, Emilia asked the question she had been dreading: “Will you have enough magic between you to perform the ritual three times, if it doesn’t work without a sacrifice? Once to try without, and then twice more for myself and another visitor?”
The group turned, conversing quietly between themselves, the aether vibrating and shifting with so many private words that, even without using her power to read their words, they became almost visible. Under the table, Key’s hand slid into hers, squeezing once, twice, as though to say I’m here and I’ll miss you.
⸂There are more than just two visitors within the city system,⸃ someone finally said.
Emilia’s spine straightened. “Can you tell how many? And where they are? Who they are?”
The group conversed once more before one of the older women rose. Slowly, she made her way around the table, her cane tapping noisily over the hard flooring while her free hand wrapped around the top of each chair, needing that extra bit of support to make her way to stand behind Emilia.
“I would have come to you,” Emilia said, settling back into her chair when the woman instructed her to get comfortable.
⸂Yes, well,⸃ the woman laughed, practically forcing her cane into Key’s hands so she could place each of hers against the sides of Emilia’s head, ⸂if we old people let you young ones do everything for us, we’d never move. Then, we’d end up in even worse shape.⸃
Emilia couldn’t really argue with that, but she had to ask how old the woman was.
⸂Ninety-nine,⸃ she laughed, and Emilia tried not to dwell on the strange way even her voice seemed to have aged with her.
Children’s too, she realized. Despite having no direct knowledge of how vocal cords would change in a normal person—although at ninety-nine, this woman may very well remember the last visitation, maybe even been an active member of one group or another at the time—their voices still changed with age. Did teenage voices crack? Did all children have the voice of a child? Or did a child occasionally pop out with a voice suited to a grownup?
Useless things to consider as she told the woman she was almost seventy, each of the people around the table straightening up a little more—she was definitely older than a handful of them.
Someone asked a question—something about where that landed her in the aging process of her own world—but Emilia couldn’t answer, whatever gift the woman behind her was using dragging her away and into the aether.
The world blurred as they raced through the Clarity City System, the woman’s gift seeking out each visitor with such pinpoint accuracy that the faded map in the corner of Emilia’s vision was able to log exactly which building and level they were on.
Impressive. Emilia needed to ask the lady—once they were out of this place and she’d thrown up—whether her gift had always been this powerful, or if it was simply a result of time, age and practice.
They flew by Conrad and his sister, the body of his nephew slumped against a wall in the distance, and Boundary in the midst of surging in between Conrad and his sister, who seemed intent to kill both of them her face snarled in anger.
The world shifted, melting and reforming to another building. This time, it was the missing members of Conrad’s family descending flights of stairs. The Child and The Quiet Boy. Something was wrong with them—even more wrong than whatever had been before.
No, not them. Just the boy, even the little girl looking at her brother with concern.
These were the ones Conrad had said to stay away from. Emilia didn’t think he was referring to whatever was going on with them now, though. At the very least, given they were in an entirely different building, the chances of their paths crossing were on the lower side.
The pair faded away, and a group of visitors that Emilia assumed had previously been gathered by Clarity fell into view. No one she knew—not really, anyways. A few looked passingly familiar, like they’d either based their looks on someone she’d seen somewhere—probably various media or season rankings—or were the person themself.
Not knowing anything about the people—and seeing that they were obviously being guarded by a handful of Clarity members—Emilia didn’t see much point in doing anything for them. They’d be home soon enough, hopefully without any serious mental issues. Actually, she probably should find out how many people Clarity had been directing into heartcores. Vermilion had already been well on her way to a full-blown heartcore personality, after all. Who was to say all these heroes hadn’t also—
Emilia’s thought cut off as her vision changed again, this time to someone she knew.
V.
V and Astra, Caro and Gale tucked into a corner of a room as well.
They looked relatively unharmed, but that didn’t mean much when the system healed over most injuries without much fanfare. Still, they were there. There and arguing quietly between themselves. There and alert looking, like at the very least they hadn’t been completely consumed by pain or terror or the heartcores.
Emilia started when the world returned, dozens of eyes glued to her.
⸂So?⸃ the woman behind her asked, her voice distant and disorienting and… and yup, Emilia needed to throw up.
Key helpfully grabbed hold of the old woman as Emilia turned, tugging her out of the way while Rin pulled her hair short away from her heaving.
⸂Oh, sorry deary. It’s been a long while since I shared my gift with anyone who wasn’t already used to it. That’ll pass in a few moments.⸃
Emilia didn’t feel like she had a few moments. V and Astra, and more importantly Gale and Caro, were in the city system. They were alive and in danger, not just from Clarity, but from an attack meant to destroy the entire city system—not that they were positive they’d have to resort to that, but out of everyone, Emilia wanted to try her best to get the kids out of here before any decisions were made.
They didn’t deserve to die, especially not when the only reason they had ended up here was because of her.
⸂So?⸃ the woman tried again, once Emilia’s heaving breaths had stopped. ⸂Did you see anyone you think we should try giving system access to?⸃
Nodding, Emilia told the woman. Conrad, for sure, fighting several dozen floors above them. “There… the last two. Them as well, if we can get to them.”
She didn’t have to look up to know a tension had entered the room. That didn’t surprise her. Her four friends had likely only ended up back here because someone—Fran, perhaps—had brought them here. They weren’t like her and the others, sneaking in through secret entrances and making their way through the city system.
They were captives—potentially valuable ones at that, if anyone found out how much she wanted to save them—and getting to them would mean having to make their way through guards, when they really didn’t have time to do so.
⸂Getting to those two, will be difficult.⸃
The words weren’t a surprise, but they weighed on Emilia, nonetheless.